


Three Sentence Ficlets (MCU)

by Elizabeth Culmer (edenfalling)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Daredevil (TV), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Jessica Jones (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 3 Sentence Ficathon, 3 Sentence Fiction, Aftermath, Angst, Bad Cooking, Beaches, Blindfolds, Chaos, Character Study, College, Developing Relationship, Double Dating, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forehead Kisses, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Holidays, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Letters, M/M, Misdirection, Multi, Philosophy, Prompt Fic, Propositions, Revenge, Secrets, Senses, Spies & Secret Agents, Team, Teasing, Threesome, Threesome - F/F/M, Threesome - F/M/M, Truth or Dare, Vacation, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-03
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2018-02-21 23:25:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 3,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2486078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edenfalling/pseuds/Elizabeth%20Culmer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tiny ficlets written for various iterations of the Three Sentence Ficathon:</p><p><b>1)</b> Bucky is Steve's gun. <b>2)</b> Bucky & Peggy seduce Steve with their shooting skills. <b>3)</b> Steve & Darcy on their way to a date. <b>4)</b> Steve & Natasha play Twenty Questions. <b>5)</b> In retrospect, bringing a sentient tree into a bookshop wasn't the best idea. <b>6)</b> Steve & Trish drag Bucky & Jessica on the most awkward double-date in history. <b>7)</b> Matt's urban studies midterm project involves making and presenting his mental map of St. Joseph's campus. <b>8)</b> A game of truth or dare gets unexpectedly philosophical. <b>9)</b> Laura & Clint on vacation. <b>10)</b> Karen & Matt experiment with blindfolds.</p><p><b>11)</b> Foggy wonders why he tied his life to the two most obsessive people he knows. <b>12)</b> Laura, Clint, & Natasha fail at holiday cooking. <b>13)</b> Foggy in the aftermath of Defenders. <b>14)</b> Natasha deals with the fallout of Civil War. <b>15)</b> Nebula has a proposition for Kraglin. <b>16)</b> "You catch more flies with honey than vinegar," Wilson's mother used to say. <b>17)</b> His first week in Wakanda, Steve gets a letter from Natasha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm Your Gun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [musesfool](https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/gifts), [be_themoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/be_themoon/gifts), [shallowness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shallowness/gifts), [NotoriousReign](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotoriousReign/gifts), [celeste9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/gifts), [ViaLethe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViaLethe/gifts), [Idhren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idhren/gifts).



> These ficlets were written for various iterations of the Three Sentence Ficathon, hosted by caramelsilver and rthstewart. Not all are exactly three sentences. (My struggle with structural restrictions is a known flaw. Shhh.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is Steve's gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written Dec. 2011 for [musesfool](http://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool), in response to the prompt: [Captain America, Steve/Bucky, I'm your gun](http://caramelsilver.livejournal.com/140906.html?thread=2834026#t2834026).

Men kill each other in war, that's just how it goes; Steve knows this and he shoots when he has to, but it goes against some deep grain in his soul, and Bucky knows _that_ , no matter how Steve tries to play the confident hero, because Captain America or not, Steve is still Steve and Bucky has always looked out for him.

So he takes the high ground and shoots every enemy he can before Steve gets into positions where he'd have to switch from his shield to his gun; he helps plan raids so they can capture more Hydra mooks than they kill; and he stops Steve while he's getting into his suit, pulls on Steve's gloves himself, and says, "When you're wearing these, when you hold your gun, these are my hands; anyone you kill is my fault, not yours."

"You can't keep the war away from me, Bucky, not any more than I could keep it away from you," Steve says, a little soft and a little sad, but his gloved fingers catch on Bucky's gun-callused ones for a moment before he pulls away and tugs the mask down over his eyes.


	2. Target Practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky & Peggy seduce Steve with their shooting skills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written Dec. 2011 for [be_themoon](http://be_themoon.livejournal.com), in response to the prompt: [Peggy/Steve/Bucky, target practice](http://caramelsilver.livejournal.com/140906.html?thread=2976106#t2976106).

Peggy would make a hell of a sniper if they could get her in the field, Bucky thinks as he watches her work out her frustration at the shooting range -- it'd take a bit of practice, since she's used to pistols instead of rifles, but she has the eye and the nerve and a steely calm that mirrors the cold stillness Bucky never realized was in his heart until he shot a man in the back from over a thousand yards away and realized he didn't feel a thing.

Steve can't shoot for beans, which is weird when you think about how he throws that damn shield of his, like he can think seven rebounds ahead and know exactly what angle and how much force to use so he and the shield arrive in the same place again with everyone else in the room laid low, but then again it's a shield, not a sword, and even improvised into a weapon Steve's so careful not to let it strike too hard and kill unless he absolutely has to -- no real surprise, then, that he doesn't work too hard improving his aim with a gun. The surprise is how much watching Peggy and Bucky shoot turns him on, even if he tries not to show it as he stands off to the side and pretends to reread their latest orders.

Bucky lifts his own regulation pistol and steps forward, eyes catching Steve's for a long, hot second before Steve flushes and looks back down; just before he shoots he whispers sidemouth to Peggy, "I give it ten more minutes until he jumps us, unless you'd rather we jump him first."

The crack of his gun drowns out her words, but the spark in her eyes is all the answer he needs.


	3. if it ain't broke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve & Darcy on their way to a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written 3/29/13 for [shallowness](http://archiveofourown.org/users/shallowness), in response to the prompt: [Avengers, Steve/Darcy, timekeeping](http://rthstewart.dreamwidth.org/89310.html?thread=3105758#cmt3105758).

"Shit, my battery's dead, what's the time?" Darcy demands, one hand still tapping futilely against her phone as if trying to will her fingers into generating electricity.

Steve glances at his wristwatch, one of the few indulgences he'd purchased with his decades of accumulated back pay and interest: this world is alien in so many ways that science fiction never dreamed of, but a Swiss watch is still a Swiss watch, solid and stable enough to last through the generations.

"Quarter past six; we'll make our reservation," he says, tapping the watch face in mimicry of his girlfriend's gesture; and Darcy looks up from her useless phone with a smile.


	4. Come In, She Said

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve & Natasha play Twenty Questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written 2/15/15 for [notoriousreign](http://notoriousreign.livejournal.com), in response to the prompt: [MCU/Avengers/Winter Soldier, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanoff, 20 questions](http://rthstewart.dreamwidth.org/119267.html?thread=3899107#cmt3899107).

It's a childish game, a foolish distraction, but that's exactly what they need tonight when they're both cold and bruised, worn thin from too much travel and not enough answers, no closer to finding Steve's friend or Natasha's past than they were when their worlds fell apart.

"Is it something living?" Steve asks as he bandages her twisted ankle, his hands gentle despite their size and the blood beneath his nails.

Natasha holds her chosen thought -- _you, naked, in my bed_ \-- behind her eyes and teeth where it will roughen her voice and heat her gaze, and tells him, "Yes."


	5. can't take you anywhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In retrospect, bringing a sentient tree into a bookshop wasn't the best idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written 12/3/15 for [celeste9](http://celeste9.livejournal.com), in response to the prompt: [MCU, any, in a bookshop](http://caramelsilver.livejournal.com/150194.html?thread=4508082#t4508082).

"I don't care if this is a front for the best fence in the fucking galaxy -- you brought Groot into a place filled with a million desecrated tree corpses!" Rocket snarled, prodding Peter with the business end of his latest experimental blaster; "And you say _I've_ got to treat people with more consideration?"

Peter flicked a glance over Rocket's head -- a little trickier than usual, since his crewmate was perched on top of what _had_ been a bookcase until a few minutes ago, and was still vaguely recognizable as such underneath the warping weight of vines and flowers -- and winced as Drax, always up for supporting a friend, especially if that support involved a fight, caught the outraged shop owner off the backspin of Gamora's kick and threw the hapless Sakaaran into his own cash register; there went another avenue for supplemental funds, to say nothing of the blow to their store of residual goodwill with Nova Corps when word inevitably got back to Xandar.

"Yeah, whatever, chew me out later," he said, absently pushing the oversized gun away from his chest; "At the moment I'm more worried about how we're gonna get offworld before the local cops come down on our heads, so shut up and help me plan -- and no," he added reflexively, "shooting the cops is still not a solution!"


	6. in sunshine and in shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve & Trish drag Bucky & Jessica on the most awkward double-date in history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written 12/4/15 for [vialethe](http://vialethe.livejournal.com), in response to the prompt: [MCU, Trish Walker/Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes + Jessica Jones, most awkward double date ever](http://caramelsilver.livejournal.com/150194.html?thread=4551090#t4551090).

"The last blond she dated got brainwashed into almost murdering her, and then turned out to be a revenge-obsessed hyper-violent drug addict," Jessica says.

"The last blonde he liked was an undercover agent sent to spy on him by his own employer, and also his first girl's great-niece," Bucky retorts.

They both glance toward the counter where Trish and Steve are laughing their way through an ice cream purchase, then resume their mutual glaring contest because this is going to go catastrophically wrong -- no matter how much Steve and Trish protest that they are grown adults and can handle a relationship without tempting fate or needing paranoid nursemaids; both Bucky and Jessica know the universe is a vicious motherfucker with the worst sense of humor imaginable -- and like hell will either of them let _their_ best friend bear the brunt of the damage when things (hearts, secrets, worlds) inevitably explode.


	7. images unseen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The midterm project for Matt's urban studies course involves making and presenting his mental map of St. Joseph's campus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written 12/5/15 for [idhren24](http://idhren24.livejournal.com), in response to the prompt: [Batman or Daredevil, any, 'The Image of the City' / urban way-finding](http://caramelsilver.livejournal.com/150194.html?thread=4556210#t4556210).

The midterm project for his urban studies course involves making a mental map of St. Joseph's campus, based on Kevin Lynch's elements, so everyone in the class can compare and contrast the way they experience the same small stretch of physical space; while drawing is obviously out, Matt builds a lumpy model out of Play-Doh to accompany his verbal presentation and thinks long and hard about how to explain landmarks based on scent and sound, and the increased importance of edges when any venture into unfamiliar districts comes without the navigational crutch of reading street signs or orienting around visual landmarks from a distance.

He leaves half his paths unmarked and a full third of his landmarks unspoken. The freedom he finds on midnight rooftops is a private thing, and no matter how much he can do that a normal blind person can't, those gifts have nothing to do with passing this course: he doesn't need any distractions on his path through undergrad to law school (from node to node, he thinks, a bit wryly), and so, of course, he lies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The timing of Matt and Foggy's first meeting in the MCU is unclear; some elements of that scene suggest law school while others suggest undergrad. In this ficlet, I am working on the assumption that they met in law school, that Foggy also went to Columbia as an undergrad, and that Matt did his undergrad studies elsewhere but still in NYC -- hence St. Joseph's._


	8. walk off the edge of my own life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A game of truth or dare gets unexpectedly philosophical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written 1/16/16 for **anonymous** , in response to the prompt: [Any, any, _There are no cities, no cities to love; It's not the city, it's the weather we love!_](http://caramelsilver.livejournal.com/150194.html?thread=5009074#t5009074)

"Okay, okay, truth," Karen said, shoving herself upright on Foggy's couch and slashing her hand through the air in a barely controlled gesture Matt had to remind himself not to flinch at; "So, imagine a city -- any city, really, but let's go with Manhattan -- and then, you take all the people and move them to, I don't know, California, and you build them a new city; and at the same time you move a million and a half _different_ people into Manhattan so it's not empty anymore, right, and here's the question: which one do you think is the original city?"

"Oh, boo hiss, don't answer her -- we're too drunk for philosophy, and how is that even meant to be embarrassing?" Foggy complained from the depths of his armchair.

"It's a fair question," Matt said slowly, imagining all the people he tried so hard to protect uprooted and adrift in a strange land, trying to recreate New York, and then imagining a sea of strangers equally adrift in the maze of concrete and steel he'd engraved into his bones, learning to love their new home, "and I think... I think a city isn't only the people _or_ only the buildings and streets, so the answer is neither; but both new cities will carry the ideals and mistakes of the old city into the future, just like we carry our pasts with us no matter how hard we try to escape."

He knocked back his shot of whiskey even though the rules didn't require him to, and pretended he couldn't hear the sudden hitch in Karen's breath or Foggy's aborted attempt to stand and give him a hug.


	9. to get away from it all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura and Clint on vacation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written 11/29/16 for [notoriousreign](http://notoriousreign.livejournal.com), in response to the prompt: [MCU, Laura Barton/Clint Barton, vacation](http://caramelsilver.livejournal.com/151259.html?thread=5123035#t5123035).

Once Laura got Clint past the urge to rehang the door of their very swanky hotel suite, and made him call in a tip to SHIELD about the suspicious behavior of the front desk clerk and two of the cleaning staff instead of pursuing the people himself, he settled fairly well into relaxation: his only stipulation that she try either scuba diving or surfing before they headed back north.

"I never really appreciated how fun doing nothing could be, before," he said, breath tickling along the curve of her ear as she lounged on a beach towel and basked in the sun and the pressure of his strong, callused fingers rubbing sunblock into her shoulders and down the hollow of her spine; "Maybe I just needed the right beautiful woman as my partner and mission coordinator."

"I'm telling Nat you said that, and getting Maria to record the resulting carnage," Laura murmured sleepily into the cradle of her folded arms, and smiled to herself at a job well done when Clint stopped his massage to laugh.


	10. absence makes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen & Matt experiment with blindfolds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written 11/30/16 for [adamas](http://adamas.livejournal.com), in response to the prompt: [Daredevil; Ensemble or Matt Murdock/Any; teaching how to see without sight](http://caramelsilver.livejournal.com/151259.html?thread=5076955#t5076955).

After Karen banged and tripped her way across what felt like miles of treacherous floor and furniture, Matt guided her (both of them still laughing) to his couch and said, "Maybe we should start with something simpler, or at least something that keeps you in one place and doesn't split your focus so much."

"Oh?" Karen said, and immediately wanted to kick herself for the breathless inanity of the word and her tone of voice, and then wanted to kick herself again for the way the jump in her heartbeat and the flush of heat across her cheeks (just kissing the edge of Matt's old mask, pulled low over her eyes) might have given Matt the idea that she was upset at him instead of mildly annoyed at herself and how much this was turning her on.

"Yeah, just, I'm going to hold my hand near some part of your body so you can feel the heat and air displacement -- because nobody's ever _completely_ still -- and see if you can reach out and touch my hand with your own: no guessing," Matt said, sliding one hand through the loose tendrils of her hair as he spoke, in a slow, tender gesture of farewell before he shifted his weight off the couch and left Karen's skin tingling at the suddenly untenable lack of his touch... and she wondered, not for the first time but with more force than ever before, how he could possibly stand to live this way -- all his nerves raw, exposed, and hungry -- because despite the blackness that (temporarily, voluntarily) shrouded her world, she had never been more conscious of his body in her life.


	11. madly, deeply

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foggy wonders why he tied his life to the two most obsessive people he knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written 11/30/16 for [silvr_dagger](http://silvr_dagger.livejournal.com), in response to the prompt: [Any, any, siren song](http://caramelsilver.livejournal.com/151259.html?thread=5392347#t5392347).

Foggy wonders, sometimes, if he was born with wax in his metaphorical ears, something that keeps him from hearing the siren songs that rule his best friends' lives: justice, vengeance, unvarnished truth, a million other shades of poison. He doesn't feel it's a flaw -- anyone who claims to _welcome_ the disasters and heartache that Matt and Karen's respective obsessions lead them into is both crazy and lying -- but now and then he looks at his normal ambitions and modestly comfortable life and wonders if he's missing some kind of high (personal, social, whatever) along with the obvious lows, because his friends have made it abundantly clear that some vital spark in their hearts will wither and die unless they're free to dive headfirst into the treacherous waters they love.

He just wishes he could teach them to find joy on the steady shore (in safety, with him) instead.


	12. just as long as we're together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura, Clint, & Natasha fail at holiday cooking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written 11/30/16 for [celeste9](http://celeste9.livejournal.com), in response to the prompt: [MCU, Clint/Natasha/Laura, whatever works](http://caramelsilver.livejournal.com/151259.html?thread=5152987#t5152987).

"I am so sorry, Nat," Laura said as she stared at the charred ruins of the turkey; "I wanted to give you a perfect introduction to American holiday traditions, but apparently I should have spent more time bugging my mom in the kitchen than bugging my dad in the garage when I was a kid, since apparently cooking is not nearly as close to engineering as baking is."

Clint dropped a cheer-up kiss on her forehead and heaved the useless, smoking avian corpse into the sink; "The pie's still fine," he said, "and there's always takeout Chinese, which is actually more traditional in my family than any fancy home-cooked meal."

Natasha's kiss landed on Laura's nose, then slid teasingly down just to the corner of her mouth before Nat pulled back with a smile and said, "I've eaten turkey -- my trainers were very thorough about cultural details -- and while I appreciate the effort, I have to say I'd prefer egg rolls."

Laura sighed and let her husband and lover pull her toward the basket of takeout menus that sat in mocking splendor at the end of her kitchen counter; probably this disaster had always been inevitable, and if nothing else she'd have a funny story to tell someday (in carefully redacted form), but in the meantime, she had an argument over appropriate spice levels to mediate.


	13. for the living

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foggy in the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written 12/8/17 for [iawenbemerry](https://iawenbemerry.livejournal.com), in response to the prompt: [The Defenders, Foggy, aftermath](https://caramelsilver.livejournal.com/151620.html?thread=5821764#t5821764).

The thing about an unexpected death is that it unleashes a flood of huge, wrenching, and time-sensitive decisions exactly when the people left behind are worst equipped to handle those responsibilities.

Foggy's used to being the person hired to take some of that weight off other people's shoulders, and now he thinks he might have been underselling his services, based on how much he wants to curl up under an afghan, sleep the clock around, and let someone else sort through the detritus of Matt's life; but there isn't anyone else he trusts to both keep Matt's secrets and make sensible, legally-defensible choices about bequests and taxes and stock portfolios -- except Karen, of course, but executing Matt's will, clearing out his apartment, cancelling his delivery services, telling Josie he wouldn't be swinging by the bar anymore... all of that would hurt her just as badly as it hurts Foggy and if nothing else he wants to save her from these extra shards of glass in the heart.

"I hope your religion is right enough about heaven and stuff that you're up there hugging your dad right now," Foggy says to the ceiling as he sits on the bare floor of Matt's stripped apartment, drinking the last bottle of Matt's shitty imported beer, "but as soon as you're done with the reunion, you should look down and start feeling guilty about the mess you left, just like I said you would, you asshole; you don't get to be perfectly happy without me and Karen," and if he closes his eyes and pretends he can hear Matt's rueful, self-deprecating laugh, that's between nobody but him and Hell's Kitchen, and this neighborhood can keep one last secret for the idiot who poured out his life in its name.


	14. the journey of a thousand miles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha deals with the fallout of Civil War.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written 12/9/17 for [iawenbemerry](https://iawenbemerry.livejournal.com), in response to the prompt: [MCU, Hawkeye +/ Black Widow, amends](https://caramelsilver.livejournal.com/151620.html?thread=6031940#t6031940).

There's nothing Natasha can do directly for Clint, not while the fallout of Vienna, Berlin, and Leipzig is still fresh and every eye trained to see through shadows is watching for her movements, wondering which way she'll jump now she's cut free from any organization.

Instead, she leaves ciphered border-crossing instructions in one of the electronic dead drops Laura has access to; anonymously mails a set of false passports (Laura Ingalls and her children Carter, Layla, and Peter) to a suspiciously innocuous heritage seed company's post office box; rents a modest corporate jet through three shell companies and a half dozen aliases that ultimately trace back to Stark Industries; and files a flight plan from Council Bluffs to Regina.

When Tony tracks her to a Tim Horton's in Saskatoon three days later, still fuming over her refusal to block Steve and Barnes from taking off for Siberia, Natasha pushes a coffee and doughnut across the table and says, before he can get a word out, "I don't know where any of them are; yes, that was the point; no, I won't help you find them," because while she won't regret the side she chose -- the Accords are a hideous botch and won't stand up to the first round of legal challenges, but some regulation is both practically and ethically necessary and Steve's headfirst stubbornness wasn't going to win any leverage over the people drafting the treaties and laws -- she does regret leaving Clint without a partner, and running decoy for his family's escape is how she begins to make amends.


	15. like a thunderbolt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nebula has a proposition for Kraglin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written 12/12/17 for ama_ranth_827, in response to the prompt: [Any, Any, I platonically want to have sex with you. No big deal](https://caramelsilver.livejournal.com/151620.html?thread=5924420#t5924420).

As she withdrew her sparking hand from the guts of the last member of the unexpected perimeter patrol, ripping out a segment of the sucker's spine for good measure, Nebula turned and said, "Once we finish retrieving the rest of the Guardians from this pathetic excuse for a prison, I wish to platonically engage in sexual intercourse with you; I'm told that Ravagers are frequently experienced in such matters and I've had no luck finding other partners to practice on."

Kraglin's mouth dropped open; Yondu's arrow, thus bereft of guidance, continued its last trajectory and plowed straight through a stone guard tower in a moderately impressive explosion -- which of course defeated the whole damn purpose of sneaking in and silencing the patrol squad before they could raise alarms, fuck his life.

"Afterwards, you can attempt another explanation of why some people find hats aesthetically pleasing," Nebula added, and, hefting her newly acquired lightning canon onto one implausibly slender shoulder, strode toward the still-smoking gap in the ancient Kree fortress as if a full-on frontal assault had always been the plan.


	16. I shall repay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You catch more flies with honey than vinegar," Wilson's mother used to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written 12/29/17 for anonymous, in response to the prompt: [Any, any, nets of gold](https://caramelsilver.livejournal.com/151620.html?thread=6122820#t6122820%20).

"You catch more flies with honey than vinegar," Wilson's mother used to say under her breath while his father lectured about injury and punishment, about reputation and revenge, about a strong right arm and the will to apply it to his enemies, and she was right because it was for love of her that Wilson struck down their tormentor.

He thinks of her precept now as he weaves a net of vengeance through his city, binding ever more people to his quest with chains of gold that gleam rich and warm with promise -- but not gold all the way through; scratch the surface and the iron beneath will stab and burn, as it should for those who would betray him.

When his net clamps tight around Murdock, Wilson won't bother with the gilding; because for all his weakness and his failures, on this one subject his father was also right.


	17. worth a thousand words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His first week in Wakanda, Steve gets a letter from Natasha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written 12/29/17 for anonymous, in response to the prompt: [Any, any, _pine, bamboo, plum_](https://caramelsilver.livejournal.com/151620.html?thread=6059588#t6059588). (Prompt choice courtesy of [yggidee](http://yggidee.tumblr.com))

Natasha sends him a letter, the first week in Wakanda; Steve doesn't bother asking how she found him, or why T'Challa decided to allow this message through, just unfolds the smooth, heavy paper to see what empty words she's arranged into a backhanded weapon, maybe even pointed enough to pierce through the numbness of leaving his life behind for the second time in less than a decade.

But instead of her handwriting (or whatever style she's imitating this year), the paper is covered in a delicate Chinese-style watercolor -- a country path winds past a lone plum tree in flower by a covered pavilion, across a bridge framed by graceful stands of bamboo, up to a pass between improbably-shaped mountains, crowned by gnarled and windswept pines -- and, fluttering to the floor, a tiny fortune-cookie paper in cheap blue ink with lottery numbers on the back reminds him that the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step... except the last word is crossed out and "sketch" is printed neatly in its place.

Steve snorts at her nerve, but despite his best effort to hold his annoyance, he can't help admiring the slightly awkward grace of the work, and somewhere in the back of his mind the Wakandan bas-reliefs, sculptures, and embroidery he's been absorbing in his aimless passage through the palace from the guest suites to the medical complex click abruptly together into a style he wants to apply to the landscape outside his bedroom window; as he reaches for a pencil and notepad, a corner of his mind is already plotting how to get his answer to Natasha, and what subtle teasing to include.


End file.
